


damn u look good and im drunk

by Cockbite (personalized_radio)



Series: NSFW/PWP [10]
Category: The Creatures | Cow Chop RPF
Genre: Alley Sex, F/M, Unsafe Sex, dont do this kids its bad, subway!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-28
Updated: 2019-02-28
Packaged: 2019-11-06 21:10:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17947181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/personalized_radio/pseuds/Cockbite
Summary: It shouldn’t be so fucking hot, is the thing. Lindsey has self-respect. She has self-respect and she is a damn fine lay and deserves at the very least a couch, if not a bed. This is not a couch or bed. This isn’t even an apartment. This is an alley.





	damn u look good and im drunk

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kiden](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiden/gifts).



> i wrote this to go along with some art that none of u will ever be lucky enough to see and im so sorry about that
> 
> anyway heres more hundarbot porn sorry for the spam lmao <3

It shouldn’t be so fucking hot, is the thing. Lindsey has _self-respect_. She has self-respect and she is a damn fine lay and deserves at the very least a _couch_ , if not a bed. This is not a couch or bed. This isn’t even an apartment. This is an _alley_. An alley _outside_ an apartment. An alley outside an apartment just off the main damn street, even if it is dark enough to barely see past the mouth.

So, no, it should not be so hot that Brett The Bouncer has her bent over the _stairs to the back door_ like she’s some kind of fuckin’....dame of the night he’s paid bottom dollar for. Not even - not even a _stairwell_ , just fucking _three cement stairs_ and if someone opens this door to see why two alley cats are fighting they’re gonna get a face full of _her_ -

But to be fair, they maybe would have made it inside if she hadn’t handcuffed him to the pipes next to the door. To also be fair, though, she had only been _kidding_. They were _toy cuffs_ , he didn’t have to _break the pipe_ -

“Come on,” Brett The Bouncer growls and his voice is a little higher than she expects but at this point, it’s all she can do not to shudder onto her knees through the haze of the two margaritas and untold shots and the heat and stench of sex. He smells like the bar, the scruff of his beard scratching at her neck where he’s hooked his chin over her shoulder to pant into her skin. She’s got her tights around her thighs and he’s got his belt and fly undone, jeans just low enough to get the job done, and she can feel him grinding against her lower back. Maybe it’s just the alcohol but he feels - big, and really hot, in both that this is the sexiest thing she’s done since the lap dance she gave Anna last year and he literally feels like his dick is a brand of fire against her.

“Want me to reach back and help you find the target, bud?” She leans forward a little, lifts a hand to shove her hair out of her face and hold it in place, “It’s a vagina, you just shove it on in there and -”

“Yep, okay, got it,” Brett The Bouncer huffs a laugh and he smells _good_ , she likes whatever scent he’s got on, wants to fuckin’ roll around in it like it’s catnip, wants him to roll _her_ around -

He untucks one of those fuckin’ arms - god, his _arms_ , the first thing she’d noticed, because he’s wearing a shirt that would work fine for him except that his arms are trying to break the sleeves open through sheer force of flex and she wants him to _ruin her_ with those arms - from around her waist, reaches down to shove at her tights a little more. She feels his fingers, rough and hurried, against her back, feels him dip between her thighs and push aside her panties. His thumb brushes against her clit and she gasps, loud and shaky, and his hips jerk in response.

“I want more of that,” Brett The Bouncer says, “Louder. You remember my name? I want you to scream it before I’m through with you.”

“Okay, big boy,” She laughs, lifts her leg to balance on the next stair to give him more room, “Let’s get Mini You in the ol’ clam and then we’ll see about me screamin’ anything, huh?”

“Christ,” he mutters, slides two fingers across her clit, down her slit, presses the tip of one a little deeper and _drags_ the rough pad of his finger across the delicate skin of her lips and her eyes flutter closed. She rocks her hips into his touch, leans her head back on his shoulder and giggles at the hanging plastic handcuff still tangling from his free wrist, resting against her belly where he’s holding her steady. She realizes, quite suddenly, that the only thinking keeping her balanced on these stairs is his grip on her and she shudders hard against his fingers at the thought. He’s barely straining and - god, he could fuckin’, he could do so much to her. There’s a danger here - there is a _real danger here_ because she doesn’t know this dude and she’s a little bit drunk and he’s a little bit strong enough to strangle her to death in this dark, unknown alley and also she would kind of be into that? Okay, but whatever, that’s a thought for a different time because he slides that finger inside of her, deeper and deeper, until she feels his knuckles against her. She feels him curl inside, rub in the right way to make her knees weak, gets her toes curling in her heels, gets her raising up a little with how _good_ it feels and he huffs another little laugh again and she kind of doesn’t _like_ him -

“Okay, okay, I get it, you can do fingers good - fuck me, Brett the Bouncer,” She finally snaps when she’s done talking her knees into womaning up and the smug air exuding from his dumb face against her neck is making her cheeks flush.

“Just Brett is fine,” Brett The Bouncer says, and she really is sad to feel his fingers leave but he really was too smug about it - she’s so sad, until she feels his hips shift back and that makes her _sadder_.

“Uh, oh, fuck,” He pulls away a little, “I don’t - do you -”

“ _Condom_ ,” She says, like a curse.

“Condom,” He repeats, less a curse and more a deep regret.

“...do you have any weird dick shit, Brett the Bouncer?”

“It’s, once again, just _Brett_. And, no. This, uh. Isn’t my usual kind of thing, Lindsey the Bridesmaid.”

“Okay, well. I also don’t have any weird vagina shit. And I’m, you know, doing my own protecting and shit, so. Spring for a morning after pill and we can say we used one if anyone asks.”

“This isn’t safe sex practices.”

“We met about three hours ago, and we’re in a dark LA alley and I’m wearing heels even though your hands could kill me all on their own. None of this is safe sex practices.”

“...how much are morning after pills, again -”

“ _Brett_ -”

“Okay, okay, yes, good, I will definitely spring for that,” Brett laughs - not the huffing chuckles from before, but an actual laugh that kind of makes her flustered, and presses against her back again. It’s a relief, because she was about to start flicking the bean herself if he ditched, and she feels him shifting again.

He holds her steady with one arm and she clutches at her own hair, mouth falling open without permission when she feels him - _him_ proper, the blunt head of the dick she’s been aiming for since they met - against her folds.

“O-oh,” She says, almost too soft to hear, and clutches at his arm with her free hand, fingers tangling in the plastic chain of the handcuffs, as he presses inside. He feels - really long, really wide. Fucking perfect. Exactly what she’s been craving from the moment their eyes had met when he’d waved them through ahead of the rest of the line.

“Remember what I said?” He says, presses his nose against her cheek, forehead to her temple, and it’s an intimacy she isn’t expecting in an alley but she craves it so suddenly that it’s almost startling.

“Just Brett’s fine?” She says, and knows it’s not what he means, but she feels him grin against her cheek and has to sigh, has to shudder against his firm chest and seriously, she can not be emphatic enough, _very big arms_.

“That works,” He says, hitches his hips suddenly that last little bit, and she barely bites back a moan. She can feel him and he’s - he’s a lot. A lot inside of her and all along her back, crowding her against the door and stairs, around her waist. He’s a little more, in fact, than she expected.

She can feel how wet she is, wetter than she’s been in awhile, wet enough that he doesn’t even need to move for her to feel the dampness between her thighs, for her core to ache for him to move more.

“Somethin’,” She swallows, has to close her eyes, “Somethin’ ‘bout screamin’, I think?”

“Lemme remind you,” He says, and it’s a deep enough sound that she feels his chest purr with it. He doesn’t really hesitate after that, moves his hips smooth and to a rhythm she can’t hear but can definitely feel. Every pull out is a slow, near-painful drag inside of her, every push back in is a fast, rough smack that echoes around the alley. Enough to jolt her forward, knock her off balance if not for his steady arm around her middle.

It’s hot. She can’t lie, it’s really - it’s hot. And, what’s more, he kind of knows what he’s doing, isn’t just flopping around down there like an idiot. He knows what he’s doing and she’s not gonna _scream_ , at least not at this angle, but damn if she doesn’t end up moaning a little louder than she had expected to.

“Oh, what’s that? Do I hear my name, maybe?” He says, like a _smug prick_ , and she wants to get back at him so she lifts his free hand from where he’s bracing against her hip, slides it under her shirt, up her belly, to her bra.

“No,” She pants, “You do _not_. Maybe you _will_ if you make yourself _useful_ and _touch me_ ,”

“...yes, ma’am,” he responds and it’s more amused than she’d like, but she’ll take it because he does what she asks and cups her breast through the bra.

He readjusts his arm around her waist and she isn’t fool enough to think she’s gonna get dicked this hard without that to keep her upright, but she wishes she could have both his hands on her, wishes she could have his fingers on her cunt and on her boobs at the same time but she’ll settle for doing this _one thing_ herself, _this one time_. Just because he doesn’t have enough hands and she’d like to come at some point tonight. She slides her own hand from his arm and the plastic chain, to the front of her tights and then under the waistband, until she can press two fingers against her clit through the silk of her panties. They’re bunched to one side a little in the front because Brett The Bouncer had pushed them out of the way to get to her entrance, and she doesn’t hesitate to push them even more to get to her goal, even if it’s only to frame herself with those two fingers and squeeze a little. No sense in ending the fun too early.

Brett maybe doesn’t notice what she’s doing, so focused on his new toy. He isn’t _bad_ at it, though, so she doesn’t particularly mind. His palm is firm, his fingers massaging and not shy about teasing her through the lace of the bra. Finally, he just pulls the thin cup down until one breast spills from its hold and she manages to turn a moan into a cut of _ngh_ sound when he teases at her nipple, rubs around the bud until its hard and then rolls it between his thumb and two fingers. She can still feel her own dampness on his hand, can feel the sweat they’re generating, that and her own juices making everything so slick she can barely breathe through the humidity they’re creating.

Between his fingers tugging and plucking at her nipple and his cock hittin’ it right, she’s quaking faster than she’d _like_ , but she’ll take it. Every time their hips come together, it’s with that echoing slap and it rocks her forward, and she’d maybe be worried that she’s gonna eat shit but she trusts his arms - which, again, _very nice_ \- to keep them up. Or maybe she’s just too lost in how good she feels to care. Either way, she can’t resist the temptation anymore and closes her own fingers on her clit, rubs the nub between her folds gently at first, so sensitive that it immediately makes her clench and ripple around the cock in her, and Brett _immediately_ takes notice of what she’s doing at that. He moans against her jaw, squeezes her tit in his hand just rough enough that it finally has her sighing his name.

“ _Brett_ ,” She clenches her eyes, her fingers in her own hair shaking, her entire hand quivering between her legs, “Brett, come on,”

“Yeah?” He smiles again, but it’s not the same smug thing from before. She can feel how pleased he is, and it makes her shake even harder. “Gonna come on me?”

That sends such a spike of heat through her that she curls forward, nearly topples over and he leans with her for just a second before he makes her straighten back up. His palm leaves her tits alone, slides up until his hand emerges from the neckline of her loose shirt. When he curls his fingers along her neck, she knows it’s just to support her but - god, if he just…he just has to tighten those fingers up a little and she’d be totally at her mercy. That danger again, it’s enough to have her nearly shaking out of her heels.

“Yes,” She admits, fingers working faster against herself. He doesn’t speed up, doesn’t get rougher, but he doesn’t have to. It’s steady and it’s perfect, and it’s exactly what she needs. His lips and beard against her jaw and shoulder, his cock deep and hitting that fuckin’ spot that has her near keening, her own fingers working perfectly, his palm a firm line against her throat just like his body is a firm line against her back, flush to her ass.

She really does nearly shake out of her heels when she comes. It’s hard enough that she bowls over, does actually choke herself a little against his palm and that makes it even _better_ \- and he just fucks her through it, panting hot and fast into her ear, a steady voice whispering such fucking filth that she doesn’t think she could even repeat it if asked afterwards.

It’s long, too - nearly an eternity of that perfection, of tears prickling at the corner of her eyes and a slight fear of her ankles giving out in the heels, and it eventually calms but it doesn’t go away completely because Brett’s still there like a goddamn train just, just chuggin’ along.

At least, it’s the illusion he’d like to keep up, probably, but she can feel the way his fingers are working against her neck, feel the way his hips are stalling every time he thrusts inside, the way his breathing hitches every time she ripples around him and squeezes him tight.

“Jesus, do you need a formal invite? _Come_.” She gasps, slides her fingers through her hair and around her head until she can grab a thick handful of his beanie. She turns her head, kisses his panting lips, slips her tongue into his mouth and takes what she wants while Brett’s hands stutter over her body. His fingers end up on her breasts again, kneading the soft flesh like a cat while the steady thrusts finally lose it, turn into hard ruts into her that nearly have her coming all over again at the sudden shift and focus. She knows he finally comes when he stills suddenly with his groin pressed as tight to her ass as he can get it, when his fluttering fingers freeze with a handful of her soft flesh, abused nipple still tight between two fingers and it hurts but in that sweet, sweet way that’s nowhere near too much to want to make it stop.

It’s over almost as soon as it’s begun. He pants hard into her mouth, breaks away to catch his breath, kisses her again as he releases his grip on her tit, pets apologetically at her nipple, at the gap between her breasts, down her belly. He leaves her shirt, keeps kissing her as he pushes his hand under her tights in the front, slides her fingers between hers, presses three of them to her recovering clit and starts to rub hard, fast circles that have her suddenly squealing into their kiss. She rises on her toes, like that will help her escape but his fingers follow, still-hard cock not far behind, and she barely gets the chance to bite down on his lip before she’s coming again.

Her ankles really do give out, and there’s a rush of _falling-coming-falling_ that has her out of her _mind_ -

And then Brett is sitting on the stairs and she’s trembling in his lap, her thighs spread around his and _exposing her to the alley_ , hips still rolling against his slowly-softening cock while he rubs her clit through it and kisses at her neck.

“Y- _you_ ,” She grits out, but she can’t really be angry when she’s still rolling with aftershocks.

“Are so good? Are great? Are the best I’ve ever had?” Brett teases, doesn’t stop helping her through it until she finally goes limp against him, pulls her fucking soaked hand out of her pants and holds onto his wrist because it’s finally starting to be _too much_.

“Are an _asshole_ ,” She finishes for him, and licks her lips. “I’m not saying thank you.”

“You? Lindsey the Bridesmaid? I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Just Lindsey is fine,” She says smartly, and kicks off her heels so she can set her feet flat on the ground and carefully lift off of him, “Oh, Jesus. Ew.”

“You _told me_ -”

“Shut up, I _know_ what I said, _Brett_ ,” She sniffs, and then straights her panties out. They’re a little wrinkled, but she’s sure a nice iron will fix that. Her tights are….ripped in the crotch, but whatever. She can get a new pair later.

“If it helps, I’m kind of in the same boat. Chafing.” Brett says, and she can hear him pulling his jeans up, zipping and buttoning and doing his belt up again.

“I _guess_ , if we’re _both_ suffering from this ill-advised decision,” she finally turns around, adjusting her bra, and she can’t help but smile because his beanie is all - lopsided. She reaches out without thinking, fixes it for him. His shirt says _SECURITY_. Apt.

This is usually the part where things get awkward, but he just grins at her and his eyes kind of twinkle in this dumb way that gets her kind of flustered like his laugh did. When he stands up, he’s taller than her and his arms are still, she really can not over-say this, _very nice_ \- and he reaches up and fixes her hair for her. Or tries to.

“Yeah, man, sorry. There’s no hiding what you’ve been up to.” He gives in pretty quick, “You wanna wait here? There’s a gas station around the corner.”

“Gas station?”

“I owe you a pill, idiot,” He glances around, and then leans down and grabs the black jacket that he’d had around his waist before she had very firmly ripped it off. “Here.”

“Oh, uh.” She blinks, and then smiles and lets him drape it around her shoulders. It wasn’t a particularly cold night, but it was a nice thought and she likes that he had it. “Thanks.”

“No problem. So, you want to wait here?”

“In a dark alley? L-M-A-O, no.”

“Did you just -”

“Give you the _best_ orgasm of your life?” She finishes for him, sweetly, and he _laughs_ again and it’s fuckin’ - it’s cute.

“We just fucked in this alley.”

“Cool, but you have huge arms and I have weak ankles. I’m not waiting here. Do you want me to die? Who the fuck cares what a gas station cashier thinks?”

“I get it, I get it,” he glances down, then offers a hand, “Your shoes?”

“What - oh,” She looks down too, and her heels are still on the ground, “Nah. Tough feet. I’ll just carry them.”

“I got it,” He says, leans down and picks up both her heels, and then also the small clutch purse she’d tossed right next to his jacket when he’d pushed her into the alley.

“You are...unexpectedly sweet, Brett the Bouncer.”

“Only to unexpectedly funny people. _Ol’ calm_?”

“What?” She raises her voice a little, giggling into her hands, “It’s what it’s _called -_ ”

“Yeah, okay,” He scoffs, shouldering her purse and dangling her heels from two fingers as they leave the alley and come back onto the main street. She can see the light of the gas station almost as soon as they turn the corner, a 7-11 with an attached Subway. She’s unexpectedly hungry, post-orgasm and sobering up.

They tease as they walk, nudging each other back and forth down the sidewalk, tease as they browse the aisles, tease all the way up to the counter, where a bored kid is texting. He doesn’t look up until they’re standing directly in front of him and it isn’t until Brett puts the box down on the counter and all three of them start at the plastic handcuff still around his wrist that Lindsey remembers that they hadn’t taken it off in the alley.

“Um.” the kid says.

“I’d say there’s an innocent explanation for this.” Brett starts, “But there really isn’t.”

“Nope.” She says, pleased as punch.

The kid takes Brett’s card without a word, hands both it and the box back just as silently.

“Want Subway?” She asks, “I’m kind of hungry. All that fuckin’ -”

“Jesus Christ,” Brett says, and leads her to the door that will take them to the attached Subway. Somehow, she can’t shake that he’s just as fucking amused as she is.

They eat dinner - more a midnight snack, and she’s right because he laughs more and smiles, and there’s this _twinkle_ in his eye when he looks at her that she maybe is sad she didn’t get to see when they were fucking.

He calls her a _cab_ , gives her his number, hands her the box, _kisses her goodnight_ when she teases that he’s acting like quite the gentleman.

“What a cute first date.” She says, because it was.

“Imagine the second one,” Brett says, and wiggles his eyebrows until she’s laughing so hard she nearly falls into the cab.

“Yeah, okay, big guy. I’ll, uh. I’ll call you.”

“I’ll answer, probably,” He shrugs, like he isn’t smiling.

“You definitely will.” She scoffs, shuts the door in his face.

He watches the cab leave the parking lot of the gas station, and she watches him watch, and then turns around and pulls the jacket up around her cheeks, grins into her palms.

She still feels _gross_ but, also, she’s...excited. To call him. Probably.

 

 


End file.
